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As Dirty Harry once said (in Magnum Force):
A man’s got to know his limitations.
Alas, the folks who put up The Hurt Locker for nine Academy awards do not know theirs. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have heaped nine Oscar nominations on this film.
And we shudder to think what’ll happen on Oscar night.
Ain’t Bad
Make no mistake, schmucks.
The Hurt Locker is not a bad movie.
Actually, it’s a fairly decent movie that has you in its grip for the better part of its playing time.
But it’s just not a film that merits extraordinary encomiums.
Filmed (in Jordan) in the wake of George W.Bush’s unpopular and ill-fated attack on Iraq, Hurt Locker follows a group of ordnance/bomb disposal squad members of the U.S. Army posted in Iraq.
These are the dog days of the war, unlike the present-day, relatively more stable and less violent Iraq.
Life’s hard for the U.S. soldiers in the dusty environs of a hostile country and the clear and present danger.
For these unfortunate ‘trailer trash’ cannon fodder, both black and white, death is a constant companion from the below-ground IEDs, above-ground snipers, on-ground suicide bombers, ambushes and other horrific attacks from a deeply resentful populace.
And Hurt Locker does a good job in showcasing the omnipresent dangers the three-man bomb squad faces in its daily forays outside the Green Zone.
A danger highlighted in the early moments of the movie through the death of an IED-defusing member of the squad (IED, for all ye dodos is the reference to improvised explosive devices, the lethal bombs cunningly buried on roads to kill and maim American servicemen).
Dusty Road to the Oscar
Replacing the dead soldier is Sergeant William James (Jeremy Runner), a gung ho ‘wild’ guy, seemingly mindless to the risks, disdainful of army procedures and, oh yeah, unconventional for sure in his approach to the deadly mission of defusing bombs before they can unleash their horrific effects on the soldiers and bystanders.
As James dons his thick astronaut-like protective gear, helmet and all and clumsily, repeatedly walks down the dusty road toward the implanted IEDs, you are unsure if he’s heedlessly marching toward his death or valiantly marching toward glory. Continue reading »
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